


when the night is through

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Angst, Bucky Barnes Feels, Fluff and Angst, I should go sleep now, I wrote this at 6am and broke my writers block, M/M, Not Winter Soldier Compliant, Post-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Feels, Stucky - Freeform, kinda sorta, lil bit of sexy time too, loosely inspired by eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, stucky au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 15:57:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5381192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snow is everywhere; soaking into their hair, their clothes, their apartment and no one seems to notice. No one but the two of them. Something is off but Bucky can't put his finger on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when the night is through

**Author's Note:**

> Italics = Bucky's unspoken thoughts

_Stuck in a little box with you, stuck in a little box with you  
_

_Take the whole world on with you, walk on coals and get to the bottom_

_I'll chase you to the top even it means we're sideways, sideways_

[[listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZTedPyBZ6EQ)]

"I feel like I'm disappearing," Bucky mutters as he lies on a thin mattress with coils springing up through the holes. Somehow they're at their apartment and Steve...well Steve is smaller and none of it makes sense at all.

The apartment is familiar; of course it would be. The two of them were raised within walking distance of one another and after Steve's mother had died they'd moved into a small apartment nearby. It isn't fancy by any means and if they got really lucky they'd have hot water at least twice a week. Still, it was home.

Steve shifts on his own bed, mattress creaking under the weight, and blinks sleepily.

"Buck it's 3am."

Bucky sighs and kicks off his covers, begins to nervously pace.

"Steve, listen to me. I don't...," he began.

_It sounds utterly ridiculous. I should get more sleep, that'll fix it. No, I need answers._

Having given up on his quest for sleep, Steve sits up in bed and stares into the darkness.

"People can't disappear into thin air," he says, groggily.

"I know _that._ It all feels like a dream. Like I'm dreaming and I can't wake up. I have this knot in my stomach that isn't going away."

Steve scrubs the sleep out of his eyes, with his fists. He's exhausted and has to get up in 3 hours for the new paper-route delivery position he intends to apply for. He wants to get there early enough that he won't have to weave his way through crowds and midday traffic. He crosses the shared bedroom, floors creaking under his feet, and promptly pinches Bucky's arm. 

Bucky pulls it back defensively. "Ow! Why'd you do that?" 

"You're awake," Steve states as he settles into a comfortable position at the end of Bucky's bed. It reminds him of when they'd had sleepovers as children and Bucky would wake up with a nightmare. Steve was always there to bring him back down to earth and sleep next to him to keep him safe. And that's the whole truth of the matter, Steve swears it. 

It's harder to lie to himself than he'd thought. 

"Do you remember going to bed?," Bucky questions as he rubs his temples as if they might make the world make sense again. 

_I can't remember. I can't remember waking up or going to bed._

Steve cocks his head to the side, quizzically. "No. No, I don't."

The knot in Bucky's stomach seems to tighten with every word uttered and his lungs feel as if they're expanding less and less by the minute.

"Last thing I can remember is the train, Steve. We were there with the other guys and Zola-," he breaks off mid sentence and grits his teeth together as if the mans name were cyanide on his tongue.

_How did we get here? Back home? And you....you're tiny._

Steve takes a deep breath and exhales, thin chest rising and falling faster than it should be. "How..."

"I don't know."

Steve begins to pace and shake his head as if it might keep him grounded.

"What's today's date?," Bucky asks. His head is pounding and his stomach seems to be staging a revolt _._

_It's just a dream. WAKE UP._

Steve lifts various objects and books, searching for any sign of a calendar only to come up empty handed.

"I'm not sure, Buck. Spring...it was early Spring when we captured Zola."

_Why is it so damn cold then? Where's the sunshine? The warmth?  
_

"Sounds about right," Bucky replies.

Suddenly the walls around them shifted and tilted until the floral wallpaper faded away and was replaced with the bright light of the suns rays and the not so distant squawking of a child who'd been told 'No, you've rode the carousel three times. We must go home now or supper will be cold.'

Bucky felt sick, this feeling wasn't going away. If anything it was getting worse. Reality didn't work like this, it just didn't. Even Stark himself couldn't pull this illusion off.

_Illusion, that's what this is. I've passed out in my tent again and I'll be reprimanded for sure and Steve will tell me not to take it so hard._

Steve scanned their surroundings and felt as if he might lose his lunch. Somehow they'd made it to Coney Island without moving an inch and it appeared as it had before the war had taken most men off never to return.

Happy families splashed in the bath area, couples passed by with wide grins and ticket stubs for amusement park rides and the sun beat down on their backs until Bucky's grew hot and clammy despite the cold that lingered in the air. Oddly enough the passerbys weren't dressed for it.

"Buck how'd we get here?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, pal."

A balding man with entirely too much cologne and a smug look on his face shoved past them without even stopping to apologize or look back to ensure that he hadn't caused Steve to fall.

"Must be dreaming," Steve mumbled as he collected a dented bottle cap from the frozen ground. It was cold enough to hurt his fingers and so he concluded that this couldn't be a dream after all. Dreams never physically hurt.

Bucky grinned devilishly and grabbed a sensitive part of Steve's upper arm then pinched hard enough to bruise.

"Ow!"

" _You're_ awake."

Steve shot him a hateful look as he rubbed the area. "Lets get out of here already."

_Don't have to tell me twice._

The further they walk, the more the landscape around them melds together like melting plastic and becomes familiar scenes - the park where Bucky had rescued a bleeding and stubborn Steve when they'd first met, the fire escape where they'd shared their hopes for the future (Steve hadn't been 100% honest that day, when he said his future would always include Bucky. sure, it _would_ but not in the way Steve would like), an alleyway with Steve's dried up blood stained on the pavement, the local cinema where they'd sneaked in to watch movies their mothers wouldn't have approved of when they were eleven years old.

"I can't do this anymore Steve. Lets go home."

At that moment, delicate snowflakes began to fall and melt against their skin and soak into thin jackets.

"It shouldn't be snowing yet," Steve stated as his breath came out in white puffs of air.

"Seems to be getting colder," Bucky added. "We gotta get home 'fore you catch a cold."

_Home is familiar, safe. Nothing changes there._

"I'm healthy as a horse, Buck, but if that gets you to stop starin' like you've never saw snow before then okay." 

 

The apartment is just as they'd left it - kitchen sink cluttered with dirty dishes, Bucky's clothes tossed on the back of a chair, Steve's sketchpad carefully tucked away in a kitchen cabinet door where he felt it was safe, the half empty jug of milk in the fridge along with the bare necessities. It looked exactly as it had before the war.

It, like the outside, was frigid. 

"Heat must be actin' up again." Bucky kicked at the radiator in hopes that it'd come back to life and heat their freezing bones.

It didn't. 

Steve's teeth were chattering hard enough that he felt as if they might shatter and even as he added more layers of clothing, the cold still seemed to seep through. 

"Come on Steve," Bucky pulled back a corner of the blankets on his bed then curled up inside, patting the other side for Steve.

_I'll keep you warm._

Steve kicked off his shoes and slipped under them as Bucky instinctively wrapped himself around Steve's body like a heating pad.

"Lets get you warmed up," he murmured as he took Steve's hands in his own and blew on them in between rubbing them with his palms. 

If he lingered longer than necessary well that was nobodies business. 

"B-B-Bucky, Buck...look."

"Stop tryin' to talk, Steve, or you'll break your teeth." 

Steve sighed and took Bucky by the chin, forcing him to look upward toward the ceiling where thousands of tiny snowflakes poured through a space that he couldn't recall having been there before. 

"Dammit. Roof must have a hole in it. Take your shirt off."

Steve started - "Have you lost your mind? It's _snowing_ in here."

"Body heat."

Steve considered this - "What about you?"

Bucky answered by peeling off first his button up shirt, slowly undoing each button _(puttin' on my own personal show for you, Stevie)_ and then his undershirt until his chest was exposed to the frigid air. His body immediately protested the loss of warmth by shivering - even his insides felt as if they were made of ice and snow rather than flesh and blood.

Steve followed by returning the favor,  albeit clumsier.

_If this is all I'll ever know then I'll die knowing I felt love in my lifetime, I knew of a great love - I lived it. Him. Its been him since I first drew breath and I must've exhaled his name with it because I've been trying to catch my breath ever since but all that ever seems to come out is his name._

Bucky bit his bottom lip and averted his eyes, it was bad enough that the apartment was very nearly Antarctica. The last thing Steve needed right now was his best friend spilling his guts when they'd likely have to remain bundled together until the snow quit falling.

"Well? You gonna come over here or what?," Steve questioned.

_I'll always want to hold you._

Bucky scooted to the center of the bed and took Steve in his arms, chest to chest, heart to heart. Nothing could ever hurt him when all he'd ever needed to survive was right in front of him. 

"Hey Buck?"

"Yeah?"

"Wasn't gonna leave you for Peg." 

Bucky stiffens against Steve, muscles bunching and jaw clenching. "I'm not a kid, Steve. 'sides I'll be here still, no matter what."

_You don't want me like I want you but I'll go to my grave with your name on my lips.  
_

Steve begins to form shapes and patterns with his finger on Bucky's back, softly, gently, savoring every touch.

_Hnnng, oh god._

The floors creak around them as the snow piles onto the shabby chair they'd salvaged from a rummage sale years ago, seeps into the piles of books that hold up the area where a leg should be.

"What if...?," Steve begins. He carefully adds full lips and a dimpled chin to the imagined drawing on Bucky's back and wonders if those lips are as soft as they look.

Bucky shivers whenever his finger strays to the base of his spine so Steve makes a note to revisit that area as often as possible.

"Go on." 

"What if we take Peg and a girl for you on a double date after the war is over?" 

Bucky slumped in Steve's arms as if all the life had been seeped out of him using only words. "That'd be swell." 

Steve moves on to trace the small creases on the back of Bucky's neck, fingers lightly brushing the fine hairs and causing Bucky's eyes to close. Still, Steve can tell that something isn't right.

 _An experiment_ , he thinks to himself, _that'll do._

"Or _we_ could go. Maybe see this new art exhibit on 43rd St. It's next Thursday at 3 o'clock. We could get a bite to eat after and if it's still snowing we can come home and watch it from the windows." 

"Can't you do that with Peggy?" _  
_

Steve shifts closer and drapes an arm over the curve of Bucky's waist. "I could but I thought _we'd_ go."

_Sure. We can go and pretend it's a real date, pretend that I can actually have everything I've ever wanted in this life. Only...pretending hurts when it's over._

"Take her out dancin'. I didn't teach you to dance for nothin'."

Blunt fingernails trace up Bucky's ribcage then back down to his waist, stopping dangerously close to his waistline.

_Why are you touching me like this? Your lips speak of her, your fingers speak of me._

"There's plenty of time for that. I wanna show  _you_ this place, you're gonna love it. Mr. Robins down the street? Remember how he cooped himself up for months saying he was painting? It's there, his work is. I'd like to get a look at it and I don't think Peg is into art."

Bucky pulls Steve in closer and buries his cold nose in the crook of Steve's shoulder. _Warmth_ , he tells himself. _It's not because the idea of losing Steve to Peggy is painful._

_If I were to just turn my head..._

A vast section of wall silently falls and crashes to the floor only to disappear in thin air, the snow falls faster and collects on their pillows and hair - it's coming down all around them.

_Always said the world fell away when he came in the room, guess he can finally see it._

"Buck...lets go dancing."

Bucky laughs, the sound vibrating against Steve's skin; sending a pleasant shiver through his body. "It's too cold for that."

"No I don't mean right now. I mean...maybe next week or somethin'. Me and you."

_...._

For once in his life Bucky Barnes is speechless.

He pulls back to stare at Steve, to really see him in every aspect. His dirty blonde hair is swept to the side and is damp from snowflakes falling and melting _(Like me. I melt everyday for you but you don't see it. I'm eternal Winter and it's all for you.),_ blue eyes staring back with fondness and a certain spark that Bucky can only assume is caused by earlier discussion of Peggy Carter.

Still there's _something._ He can't deny that.

"Ah come on Steve, I'm sure Peggy is a much better dancer. She can teach you a few things."

Steve shakes his head, snowflakes dripping off of the edges and onto Bucky's arm - the one that's currently mirroring Steve's position - arm heavily draped onto the slight curve of a pale waist.

_I want to be the snowflakes that become one with you._

"Already know how to dance. I wanna go to the art exhibit with you, you're not weaseling your way outta this one."

_Okay but you're still not making any sense._

"Alright alright, I'll go."

Steve grins then reaches out to - "You have some snow right..." his thumb gently brushes against Bucky's bottom lip and he loses all train of thought.

_YES._

_YES._

_YES._

Before he can stop himself he leans forward and cups Bucky's jaw, presses a quick kiss against that plush mouth then immediately breaks away in horror.

_What....was that?  
_

_I want more._

"I'm, I-I'm sorry Buck. I don't know what I-," Steve begins.

Any words thereafter are silenced by Bucky surging forward and taking Steve's face in his palms - Steve's mouth parts under Bucky's and the moment that the shock wears off he balls his hands in Bucky's hair and drags him in closer.

_Absorb me._

Bucky traces Steve's bottom lip with his tongue, hot breath mixing with Steve's and coming in short bursts. Steve makes a guttural noise - nothing close to any language Bucky has ever heard; and slides his tongue along Bucky's.

_Kiss me until this whole room is covered in snow, we'll die with our lips and our hearts melded together like we were always meant to be._

The kiss turns hot and passionate, deeper still as Bucky hauls Steve over to him and on top of him until there's no denying what they're both feeling. It's instinct that propels them forward; hips grinding against one another- lips seeking out an earlobe, a hardened jawline, the side of a neck that practically begs to be tasted, instinct that drives Steve to leave his mark on Bucky's neck then tracing over it with his tongue until Bucky ground against him harder.

It's not like the black and white movies would've painted it as with feigned gasping and moaning. It's arching backs, a neck falling back and being lavished with hungry kisses, it's unspoken endearments in every kiss, it's snow piling around them and creating their own heat.

It's touching one another through zipped and buttoned pants despite the craving to rip them off, it's coming with minimal skin contact and being so in love that it hurts.

 

When it's over Steve collapses onto his side of the bed with a wide grin on his face and fingers against his lips - lips that had been pressed against his best friends only moments before. Lips that had been bitten and sucked on, lips that seemed to remember nothing more than the taste of Bucky.

Bucky sits up in the small bed and tugs on his shirt - "The walls...they're all gone. I don't understand."

Sure enough the apartment walls are no longer as well as the windows. What remains is a shell of a room with icicles growing where lamps were only minutes before.

Steve takes in the sight with confusion - "What's really going on, Buck?"

Bucky sighs and shakes his head - "I'm not sure. I'm not sure of anything anymore. Remember how I said I felt like I was disappearing?"

"Yeah."

"I think...it has something to do with all of this."

_I don't understand anything outside of me and you right now._

"But you're still here," Steve reaches out a hand and spreads it palm first onto Bucky's chest which is now sticky and sweaty. Warm, he feels warm. Safe. 

"That's what I don't get," Bucky replies as he takes Steve's hand in his own and holds on tight. 

"Do you...what just happened...do you re-," Steve begins. 

"No. I don't regret it. You?" 

Steve shakes his head no and squeezes Bucky's hand.

"Peggy?"

"She'll find someone who can love her right," Steve says as he curls back up on the bed and drags Bucky down with him then under the covers where there's only heat and promises. 

"You don't?"

"Sure I love her. I probably always will but...it's complicated."

"How? Can't be that hard."

Steve laughed dryly - "The way I see it there are two people that I care for and one I'd die for." 

_All those double dates and we end up here._

_I can't complain._

Bucky can't seem to find the right words so he nods. He understands, he feels the same.

"Get dressed, we need to see about someone fixing this roof before you catch your death."

_I can't lose you._

 

Mr. Roberts hardware store is a trademark in Brooklyn and has been since 1921. It's a well known fact that the man knows everything about fixing anything and he treats everyone like family. His store only closes on major holidays and should someone call for him even then he'd answer it right away.

Which is why it makes no sense that he is ignoring both Steve and Bucky, why he isn't ranting about the Spring snow with them while collecting necessary supplies.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Steve mumbles as they venture from one aisle to the next, passing by customers who don't give them a second glance; even those who they've known for at least a year or so.

Bucky turns on his heel and takes Steve by the hands - "I need you to tell me everything that you can recall from the last 24hrs."

"We - you, me, the boys - hiked up a mountain with a lot of snow on either side then camped out for a few days until we caught wind that Zola would be on a speeding train that was transporting weapons to Hydra. We scaled it with you behind me and made it inside. There was an operative who shot at me but you tried to take it and I threw myself in front of you and we-"

Bucky suddenly looks helpless and pale - "I remember falling, Steve. I fell. And you...goddammit Steve what did you do?"

Steve straightens his back and stuffs his hands in his pocket - "I did the right thing."

"You _followed_ me."

It comes rushing back then - the sound of bones crunching upon impact, the sensation of packed snow under thin clothing, a warm trickling sensation from the back of Bucky's head, turning to see Steve beside of him...

_No no please no._

"Steve I-I think...I think we didn't make it."

"That's ridiculous, Buck."

Bucky grits his teeth and moves in closer - "IS it, Steve? Think about it. Think about the snow that no one else seems to notice. Think about the apartment and how we got here."

Steve clutches a shelf of tools as tight as he can, knuckles turning white with the effort.

"Where do we...what? Where, Buck?"

His brain is having issues with comprehending that this, _this_ is their new reality. They're suspended somewhere between the past and the present with no hope of escape.

 _Could be worse, we could've died alone,_ Bucky thinks to himself. He hates himself for ever feeling grateful that if he had to go, Steve was at his side. It's selfish, it's irrational but he needs Steve Rogers in whatever lifetime they're in, needs him like oxygen and the rain on a hot day.

"I don't know Steve. I'm not sure. I wanna go home now."

Steve doesn't protest, he sees no need to. It's futile.

Along the walk there Bucky reaches over and intertwines his fingers with Steve's - it feels nice to be able to do that in public. It feels incredible to be able to do that period. If he had to leave the life that they knew he couldn't think of a better way to spend it than to camp out in their apartment in a tiny bed with faulty springs and cold that's becoming more bearable by the hour with his best friend; the love of his life.

Whether it be in this life or the next his heart will always find its way back home.

**Author's Note:**

> I made up the 43rd st thing because I don't know NY so don't judge, lol. thank you so much for reading! I've had writers block for awhile but I watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (I love that movie) and was inspired. 
> 
> if you liked my fic feel free to follow me on tumblr http://givemebackmybucky.tumblr.com/
> 
> also SO SORRY about the sadish ending.


End file.
